Chapter Three
MATT
Time slows to a crawl as the ceiling collapses.
My body moves on instinct, honed by years on the rig and countless safety drills.
I lunge forward, adrenaline surging through my veins.
My arms wrap around Eliza's waist, pulling her toward me with a rush of strength I didn't know I had.
We hit the floor hard, the impact knocking the wind out of my lungs.
I curl my body over hers, feeling the sting of debris raining down on my back.
The crash is deafening, followed by a rush of frigid air and snow.
The cold bites at my exposed skin, but it's not the temperature that makes me shiver.
For a moment, I'm not in the lodge anymore.
I'm back on the rig, flames chasing me, the screams of my crew echoing in my ears.
The acrid smell of smoke fills my nostrils, and panic claws at my throat.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the memories away.
Not now. I can't lose it now. Eliza needs me.
“Matt?” Eliza's voice is muffled against my chest, her breath warm even through my shirt. “Are you hurt?”
Her voice anchors me to the present, cutting through the fog of my flashback. I force my eyes open, loosening my grip on her. The strain of the past couple months tightens around my chest, making it hard to breathe. “No,” I manage, my voice hoarse and not recognizable. “You?”
She shakes her head, her face pale in the dim light of the fallen flashlight.
Her blue eyes are wide with shock, and a slight scratch on her cheek leaves a thin line of red.
Seeing the blood sends a surge of panic through me.
I blot it with the hem of my shirt. “You're alright,” I say, more to reassure myself than her.
We untangle ourselves, moving cautiously as we check for injuries.
Apart from some scrapes and bruises, we seem to have escaped the worst of it.
Relief washes over me—grateful we aren't seriously hurt and that I'm here to help her.
The idea of Eliza facing this alone sends a chill through me, one that has nothing to do with the freezing air rushing in through the damaged roof.
My stomach tightens as I survey the scene.
The hole above us is larger now, with a section hanging precariously, swaying back and forth as the wind whips through it.
Furniture is in disarray, books and decorations strewn across the floor like a tornado swept through.
It's chaos, but a different kind than what I'm used to.
There's no fire, no smoke, no smell of burning oil.
Only snow, wind, and the creak of stressed wood.
Water is already pooling on the floor, reflecting the beam of the flashlight in strange, rippling patterns. The sight of it triggers another memory—water rushing into the lower decks of the rig as it listed to one side. I shake my head, trying to focus on the present.
“We have to get out of here.” I grab Eliza's hand, surprised by how small and cold it feels in mine.
The urgency in my voice catches me off guard, but I can't shake the feeling that we're in danger.
The moaning of the damaged structure sounds eerily like the rig in its final moments.
“The entire building could be compromised.”
She resists shaking her head. Her determination would be admirable if it wasn't so dangerous. “No, we can't leave. There has to be something we can do. Maybe if we—”
Another creak cuts her off, and my muscles tense. My survival instincts kick in, pushing me forward toward the front door. I refuse to let go of her hand, determined to keep her safe at all costs.
We push our way outside, and the wind slams into us with brutal force, sending me stumbling back a step.
My grip on Eliza's hand tightens reflexively, and I feel her body sway beside me, her weight leaning into mine for support.
The cold is shocking, stealing the breath from my lungs like a punch to the gut.
Snow whips around us in a frenzy, reducing visibility to almost nothing.
Eliza is still at my side, her hand trembling in mine.
Whether it's from the cold or fear, I can't tell—but I pull her closer, hoping to steady both of us against the storm.
“The cabins!” she shouts over the howling storm. “We have to find safe shelter!”
I squint against the driving snow. The cabins.
Right. I try to remember where they are, but in the whiteout conditions, everything looks the same, an endless swirl of white.
A flicker of panic rises—what if I lead us in the wrong direction?
But I push it down, clinging to the hope that Eliza knows the way.
I take a step forward and sink knee-deep into the snow, gritting my teeth as the cold bites through my pants.
I have to trust her—there's no other choice.
As we trudge on, the wind stings our cheeks like a hundred tiny needles. Her boots sink into the deep snow, and I reach out to steady her as she slips. The physical exertion helps keep the memories at bay, giving me something immediate to focus on.
As we approach the first cabin, my heart sinks, a leaden heaviness in my chest. The roof has partially collapsed, mirroring the damage to the lodge.
Snow is already piling up inside, visible through the gaping hole.
The second cabin doesn't look any better, with a large tree leaning precariously against its side.
The sight of the surrounding destruction is overwhelming.
It's not as bad as the rig, I tell myself. No one is hurt. We're okay.
“My cabin,” I yell, pointing further down the path. “From what I can see, it looks okay. It may be our best shot!”
We press on. The wind seems to get stronger, if that's possible, and the cold seeps through my clothes, biting at my skin. I wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer, trying to share what little heat I have. She leans into me, her body pressing against mine, and for a moment, I can feel her warm skin through the layers. It’s enough to keep me moving—to keep both of us moving—against the storm's relentless assault.
By the time we reach Heart's Haven, we're both gasping for breath, and our clothes are caked with snow.
My fingers are numb as I fumble with the door, frustration mounting with each failed attempt to turn the icy knob.
Come on, come on. It turns and I shove the door open against the wind, the sudden lack of resistance almost sending me sprawling.
We stumble inside, and I slam the door behind us, muffling the howl of the wind.
Inside, the cabin is dark and cold. The fire I lit earlier has burned down to glowing embers, safely contained behind the mesh screen of the fireplace—a fitting metaphor for how fast things can change.
One moment, we were eating dinner, and the next, we’re fighting for survival against the elements.
I move to the fireplace, grabbing a log from the nearby stack. The rough bark bites into my frozen hands as I place it on the coals. I poke at it with perhaps more force than necessary, willing the flames to life as if they could restore some semblance of normalcy to this situation.
“Matt.” Eliza's voice is steady, cutting through the chaos in my mind.
She's by the window, surveying the damage outside.
Despite the snow melting in her hair and the destruction visible through the window, she carries herself with quiet determination.
“That was awful, but we're okay. That's what's important right now.”
I look at her, struck by her strength. After escaping a collapsing building and battling through a blizzard, she appears unshaken. It's admirable, and it helps steady my own rattled nerves.
She turns to face me, her expression focused. “Let’s make a plan. Your cabin seems intact, but we can’t be sure about the rest of the lodge. We should gather essential supplies in case we have to stay put for a while.”
Even in the face of this disaster, she's stepping up, taking charge. She reminds me of the best crew members I've worked with on the rig—those who could keep a level head even when everything was going to hell around us.
“You're right,” I say, moving to join her. The fire is catching now, casting a warm glow across the room. “What do you need me to do?”
Eliza seems to be already mapping out our next move. “Let's start by taking inventory of what we have here—flashlights, blankets, non-perishable food. Then we'll need to figure out a way to check on the main lodge safely. Once we know the extent of the damage, we can decide our next steps.”
As we move to gather supplies, I admire her strength. The lodge might be damaged, but Eliza's spirit certainly isn't broken. It's so different from how I've been these past months, barely holding it together. Maybe there's something to learn from her approach.
A sudden thought strikes me, sending panic through my system. “Eliza, are there any other guests here? The other two cabins we passed were damaged.”
She shakes her head, tension easing from her face. “No, you're the only one here right now.”
Knowing there's no one else in danger brings comfort, along with a strange sort of gratitude that I'm not alone in this. It's only us out here against the storm and whatever damage it brings. The thought is both terrifying and oddly reassuring.
“Okay, that's good.” I pause, then continue, “We'll figure this out.” I'm surprised by how steady my voice sounds.
It's the voice I used on the rig, the one that inspired confidence in my crew even in the face of danger.
I haven't heard it in months. “Once the storm passes, I'll help you assess the damage, and we can make a plan.”